Consequences
by Thayin
Summary: Director Orson Krennic has allowed the brilliant scientist, Galen Erso, to slip through his fingers. Now, he must deal with the repercussions of his failure, and simultaneously attempt to advance the Death Star project, minus the driving force behind its scientific development.
1. Chapter 1

The tattered remains of a once-grand white cape dragged around the feet of Orson Krennic. Stained brown by dirt, and blotted by splashes of water, it was a pathetic imitation of what it once was. Yet, it remained recognisable. Recognisable garments had to be disposed of. Quickly, Krennic scanned the scene he was presented with. A dark, dilapidated and unnamed alleyway greeted his eyes. Crumbling buildings flanked him along both sides, their worn, brick facades occasionally punctured by rusted metal ladders, making a futile effort to reach toward the light, and escape the filth below them. The only citizen of this dingy state was a beggar, operating a few metres down the alley. Almost unnoticeable, the man wore drab clothes; the clothes of a person who took no pride in their appearance, and placed no value in the opinion of others. Perfect. 'You!' Krennic shouted, and took a step toward the other man.

'We don't want no trouble, Imperial. We just minding our own business, got our papers,' he said and tried to turn away from the approaching Krennic, as if trying to melt into the run-down surface behind him, and escape what he undoubtedly believed would be another punishment at the hands of the Empire.

That impression was exactly what Krennic was trying to dispel. 'I just want your clothes, nothing else. You can have these if you want,' Krennic indicated the cape he wore draped over his shoulders, as well as his formerly crisp, white, Imperial Engineers tunic, minus its rank plaque. As he spoke, he raised open palms toward the man, trying to convince the man it was safe to barter with him- after all, without his weapon, Krennic could employ no other tactic. He needn't have worried, however: winters on this planet were outrageously cold, making obtaining well-made clothes a primary goal for many. The man had almost removed his shirt before Krennic had finished speaking.

With new, unremarkable clothes stretched tight over his broad shoulders, Krennic moved swiftly toward the T-junction at the end of the alley. He swerved right, and immediately pressed himself to the wall. His heart was in hyperspace, and he tried to calm his breathing. After a moment, he peeked back down the path he'd come. What Krennic saw brought his heart rate directly into a docking bay. At the far end of the alley, and moving toward the beggar, was a group of white-clad Stormtroopers. Weak sunlight reflected in rivulets of rainwater running down the black 'eyes' of their helmets, making the already fearsome sight even more threatening. Without another moment of hesitation, Krennic turned and ran, as fast as he could, in any direction which would carry him away from the alley. He had no doubt that the beggar would reveal exactly which way he had gone. That suspicion was confirmed shortly after, as Krennic heard a piercing vocalised voice shout, 'You- stop immediately!' Krennic put his head down, and urged his already aching limbs to provide him with every ounce of strength they could generate. He had no intention of stopping.

Krennic dashed into another side-route, hoping to find any means of escape. Glancing over his shoulder, he watched a royal blue stun bolt glide slowly along the alley he had just turned off. Despite the relative grace of its flight, Krennic knew that the bolt would end any hope of his escape. The sound of the round was soon replaced by the rhythmic thumping of boots, rushing to convey their owners to their fleeing target. Looking forward, Krennic felt an unexpected wave of relief wash over him- a crowded plaza. He dove into the mass of creatures, hoping to get as far into the mob as he could. He was greeted by beaks, trunks and antennae. Smells, both sensuous and repulsive assaulted his senses, as a multitude of clicks and curses were issued in response to his sudden entrance. Krennic hoped this overwhelming diversity would conceal him from the predatory stormtroopers that would be greeted by this scene in short order. Krennic floated between vendors, forcing himself to appear interested by the disgusting array of foods he saw presented to him. Disposing of his naval gait, and forcing down his desire to aggressively push through the crowd, Krennic did his best to melt into the streams of people. The sudden crackle of an Imperial radio, a small distance behind him, served as a reminder of how high the stakes were in this game of cat and mouse.

Krennic risked a stop at a stall, and glanced furtively in the direction he'd come from. The stormtroopers had tried to force their way through the crowd, grilling anyone for information about his movements. Having changed his clothes however, spotting Krennic would be a task almost impossible. The stormtroopers appeared to be realising the same thing: as their captain threw their latest suspect to the ground, the squad began to move away from the plaza. Krennic began to feel the building tension in his shoulders disperse. Now that he had survived and evaded, his mind turned to the tasks of resisting and escaping. The nearest spaceport was an hour away by landspeeder, which was out of the question for Krennic. He would have to walk the back routes, turning the journey into a marathon; there was no other option if he wished to avoid attention. Finding a way to pay for any journey off planet would be difficult, but Krennic was cert… a sudden, familiar sound froze the blood in his veins, and cut through his thoughts. Only one being in the galaxy was accompanied by such a distinctive sound. 'Good day, _Director_ Krennic,' was the message conveyed by Darth Vader's inhuman, metallic voice. Before he could turn to face Vader, Krennic felt an immense heat, and searing pain, radiating from his sternum. He opened his mouth to wail in pain, but his wide gape produced no sound. Jerking his head down, Krennic witnessed the most horrifying sight he had ever seen: a beam of solid, red energy had melted through his heart and ribs as if they were mere cloth, and was now protruding from the front of his chest.


	2. Chapter 2

"Director Krennic, I have heard that much progress is being made toward the completion of the Death Star." Darth Vader's artificial voice protruded through his mask, as if grasping for the ears of Director Orson Krennic. Its metallic tone rung in Krennic's head as he formulated a response. Vader and Krennic stood toe to toe on a corridor of the Imperial Base on Jelucan. It was a position which relayed both Krennic's urge to achieve advancement through the ranks, as well as his healthy fear of the being which had thrust a lightsaber through him in a nightmare the night before. He plotted the path of his words carefully in response: "We have had a few… minor inconveniences, but work continues as planned, Lord Vader." The statement was true to any observer not intimately involved in the project, but Krennic knew that a personal visit from Lord Vader was not a reward for his work on the station- the Emperor's enforcer likely knew more than he let on.

The two high-ranking officials strode side by side through the corridors of the Jelucani base. Stormtroopers parted left and right before them, adhering to the walls, trying to stay as far out of reach of Vader and Krennic as possible. "The Emperor is impressed with the speed of construction of the Death Star. I trust that there will be no reason to delay the expected completion of the station." "Of course not, Lord Vader. The fully armed and operational Death Star will be delivered as planned." Once again, a slight pause foreshadowed Krennic's words. He was certain of his capability to rectify the issues of the moment, but Krennic was not sure whether it would be wise to inform Vader of the full extent of his problems. "Very good, Director. We will continue our discussion in private." Vader's raised right hand indicated a door that had arrived alongside the pair during their journey. Krennic entered the room in Vader's wake, and was slightly startled when the Sith Lord spun abruptly to face him. The Director had been feeling slightly ill, but the sudden scratchiness in his throat was not a symptom. The door lock clicked behind Krennic, and now, he wished for nothing more to return to his nightmare of the previous day.

The floor shook as Director Orson Krennic was razed to the ground. His arm moved weakly around his neck, as if clawing at a hand noticeable only by him. Glowering from above, Darth Vader stood motionless, a single hand outstretched; an inconsequential act in comparison to the monumental consequences for Krennic. Finally, as Krennic bowed, close to submitting to his own Grim Reaper, the hand released. Vader's sharp voice cut through his clouded head. "The Empire will not tolerate the loss of key personnel, _Director_." Vader's emphasis on the title was more threat than respect. "This project will not be stalled by your incompetence. Losing Galen Erso could cripple the Death Star, and you are fortunate that I will not be deciding your punishment." Krennic did his best to appear defiant in defeat, but he knew that no man on his knees before another could do so. Besides, Krennic feared for his own safety: death was not the worst punishment that the Empire could provide, he realized, as Vader's black cloak followed the Sith out of the door.

For the following three days, Krennic lived in fear. He had no idea when the consequences of losing Galen Erso would catch up to him. Despite his best attempts to conceal what had happened behind closed doors, Krennic was sure some of his men knew of the Director's humiliation- they knew better than to spread rumors about it behind his back, however. The voice of a communications officer cut the heat from his stewing mind. "Director, a transmission from the Star Destroyer _Punisher_." "Transfer it to the main monitor," Krennic replied. The Punisher was due to dock with supplementary troops and supplies for the base on the remote world. "Orson," the crackling voice of Captain Ree entered the main control room. "I'm unsure what I should call you, now that Lord Vader has placed me in charge of the Death Star project." Krennic gasped. He had spent days fearing for his life; the punishment had turned out to be far worse than he could have imagined. Demotion. Humiliation. Disgrace. All in front of his men. Krennic's life had suddenly been inverted, and he wanted nothing more than to be crushed beneath the landing strut of Ree's shuttle that would soon drop the final few feet of its journey, onto the surface of Jelcan.


End file.
